Weigh in
by Simon920
Summary: Alec has trouble making weight for a race.


Disclaimers: These guys aren't mine, they don't belong to me, worst luck, so don't bother me.

Archive: Fine, but if you want it, please ask first.

Feedback: Hell, yes...is anyone out there?

**Weigh-in**

Henry Daily walked over to the bench in front of their assigned stalls at Belmont. "You have another race next week, the third race on Thursday. I added a training race for the filly."

Alec Ramsay didn't bother to look up from the saddle he was polishing. "Okay."

"She's going light. 103. I expect you to make the weight."

"Fine."

"Good. See you next week."

"G'night, Henry."

Alec knew Henry was having dinner with a couple of old friends and then would be heading back to the room he'd rented for the meeting, close to the track. Alec would stay around a while, make sure the horses were fed, watered and bedded down and was then supposed to head back up to the farm for a few days to deal with some things up there, returning back to the track by Monday. He didn't mind and even liked the variety and the break from the stress of being 'on' all the time. That was the part of being him that he had trouble with.

Alec didn't like to think about it too much but he was smart enough to know that he was not just a top rider but that he was well-known and a sort of home town success story here in New York. It wasn't just because he was a successful rider—a lot of guys could make that claim. It was everything else that made up the story; the ship wreck, the plane crashes he'd survived, how they'd 'raised the Black and Satan in a back lot' and pulled themselves up by the bootstraps myth and all the rest of it. He'd become used to being stared at when he walked around the track—any track anywhere in the country, for that matter.

He'd become used to signing autographs and having his picture taken. It was becoming common for total strangers to walk up to him, calling him by name and asking him personal questions. He'd finally asked the reporters to stop referring to him as the Boy Wonder. That had first been hung on him when he'd raced the Black but it had really caught on in the press when he was riding Satan through the Triple Crown season a couple of years ago and it had stuck—he hated the nickname and found it embarrassing. He hated he magazine articles, the instant paperback biographies he'd refused to cooperate with. He hated being public property and a celebrity. He thought it was BS and he wished, with all his heart, that part of his life would go away.

Finally, the day after they'd won the Triple Crown with Satan, he'd been up at the farm and gotten a surprise call from Steve Cauthen who was racing in England then. Cauthen, who Alec had only met in passing a couple of times before the Triple Crown, had commiserated with him about what he was going through. He'd offered Alec advise from someone who'd been there—he'd won the Triple Crown on Affirmed a couple of decades before, the youngest one to do so at only 17, back when he was simply called 'the Kid' by everyone. Alec was the next jock to win the Crown, but Steve still held the record as the youngest winner—two months younger than Alec was when he managed it. Steve was pushing 50 now and largely retired, living back in the States with his family but the two of them had become friends and Alec stopped in to see him when he was in Kentucky. He'd gotten into the habit of calling him when things got to be a bit much for him, knowing that Steve would probably have some insight and be of some help. Maybe this weekend would be a good time to pick up the phone, it was always good to talk to him.

He needed to unwind badly. He needed to kick back and talk to someone who had a clue about what he was going through. Steve knew.

And now Alec also had Pam who understood.

And Pam was up at the farm so he'd be seeing her in a few hours and that would be the best part. It always was.

He finished up at the track when Jinx came back from visiting his brother to take over watching the horses. Alec said his good-byes and got into his jeep for the two-hour ride home. It was around seven now so with any luck he should be rolling down the driveway about nine—after Pam had dinner, but in plenty of time to take a walk through the fields and reconnect the way they always liked to do after a few days apart.

He had to ride next week at 103.

He currently weighed his usual 110. Seven pounds, that was how much he had to lose in less than a week. It didn't sound like much and for most people it probably would be doable fairly easily if they really wanted. The problem was that Alec was just shy of five foot seven inches, he was already ten or twenty pounds under-weight for his height and build so for him to lose more than five percent of his body was going to take some doing and he knew it. The good part about his metabolism was that his weight stayed pretty consistent. The bad part was that it was really hard for him to lose weight.

But it was part and parcel of his job and he knew that, too. In fact he knew that he was luckier than most of the jocks working because he was naturally thin and didn't have to go through what a lot of the others did. He didn't have an eating disorder, he didn't take pills and he didn't have to spend hours every race day in the hot box to sweat off water weight—well, not too often, anyway. This might be one of those times. Generally he was okay if he just watched what he ate, and stayed within reason. No bread, no desserts, no snacks, no drinking anything other than a very occasional light beer, no seconds on anything. Lots of exercise. The most he'd ever weigh in his life was around 118 and that was only because he'd been laid up with a busted collarbone and had to cut back on physical stuff for a couple of months.

Anyone who'd spent as much time as he had in jockey rooms across the country knew what a lot of the others went through. You could hardly go into the bathroom without hearing and smelling someone heaving up lunch. There was always someone sweating in the box and sometimes passing out when they walked out. He knew there was a big underground business in diet pills and diuretics to the extent that Billy had said it was as close as any of them would ever get to living in a college sorority with all the purging that went on.

Well, it was only seven pounds. It wasn't like he'd never had to lose weight before; he could do this no problem. He'd just cut back on his food; cut out everything with calories in it—everything that tasted good and up his exercise. Somehow. It wasn't like he sat around all day watching TV or anything.

And he could always spend a couple of hours in the box before the race next week—which was always good for three or four pounds. The drag about that was you couldn't drink any water or anything until after the ride, but it was just for a few hours. He could do it. Everyone else did; he'd be fine.

Traffic was light and by quarter to nine he was walking through the door to the apartment he and Pam shared above the training barn.

"You're back—I missed you!" Pam was off the couch and they had their arms around one another, kissing a greeting. "Everything all right?"

"Everything's fine—and here?" He looked at her; small, blonde and as pretty as when he could only see her in his mind—like when he was at some track across the country. He loved her and he missed her beyond words when they couldn't be together.

She smiled and pulled back slightly. "Everything's good here, too. Have you eaten? I saved some chicken your mother made tonight—she insisted that I have dinner with them and then made me take half the bird with me when I came back over here."

That sounded like his mother. "Thanks, but I ate on the road." He hadn't, but skipping one meal wouldn't kill him.

She gave him a close look. "Really?"

"Really. It's nice out, want to take a walk?" This was a common way for them to spend an evening at home—dinner, a walk and then maybe some TV or a movie or reading and then bed. They were usually up by six or earlier to start on the day's work and that came around early.

He had five days at home before he had to head back to Belmont. If he could drop a pound a day and then sit in the steam box in the Jockey Room the day of the race he'd be all right with his weight.

The first day back he made due with a cup of coffee for breakfast then was forced to spend the entire morning going over bills and schedules with his father. He skipped lunch, claiming a large breakfast, which he hadn't eaten and only had a couple of slices of steak for dinner, ignoring the baked potatoes and corn on the cob. He drank water and later staved off hunger pangs with an apple. If Pam noticed, she didn't say anything.

The next couple of days were pretty much the same. Alec would either pretend to eat, claim he wasn't hungry or tell Pam that he'd gotten something over at the main house when he went over to talk with his parents about something. If she was suspicious she kept it to herself until Sunday night when he fell asleep on their couch at eight o'clock. He _never_ did that. Alec had more energy that any three people and that was when Pam realized that what she suspected was probably true.

Pam looked at him laying there, put the puzzle pieces together and spoke to his mother when she went over to the main house the next morning. Belle listened to what she said and nodded. "He's stopped eating again. It happens when Henry assigns him some horse below his normal weight and I could kill him when he does it. Henry knows that Alec is already almost fifteen pounds under weight for his height and simply doesn't have anything extra to get rid of. He stops eating, lives on coffee and then spends hours in that horrible steam room they have down in the Jockey room at every track in the country."

"He's done this before?"

She nodded. "We found out about it after some race about a year ago at Churchill Downs; he passed out as soon as he made it back to the Jockey Room. They called in the track nurse and she put him on an IV to replenish fluids then he spent a night in the hospital under observation. He was simply malnourished—I gather it happens with some regularity to the riders." Belle shuddered at the thought that her son was doing this to himself again. "I gave him a pretty major talking to but I know he doesn't listen to me anymore if he doesn't want to. Now we try to keep a close watch on him; I call it 'Anorexia Watch' and Henry knows he's supposed to hire another rider if the weight is simply too low for Alec." She was angry. "I know Henry—he was just trying to save some money by using Alec instead of paying someone else."

Pam was horrified. All the time she'd known Alec he'd never backed off of food. Sure, he was careful about what he ate, but that was to be expected—he was a jockey for God's sake. He ate normally, if a little on the light side. In private he spoke disparagingly about any rider who couldn't make weight—claiming that if it was that hard for them they should find another line of work.

"How often has this happened?"

"Two or three times that I know of, but he travels so much…"

"Has he ever been treated for it? I mean has he ever seen a doctor or anything?"

"Like a psychologist? No. Well, not officially. An old family friend of ours is a practicing psychologist and has known Alec pretty much all his life. Alec trusts him and sometimes he'll open up to him when Tom comes over, but Alec dismisses most of what he says or simply denies that it has anything to do with him."

"My God."

"That's Alec. He's always kept things to himself. Oh, don't misunderstand me, he's outgoing and friendly and always has been but when it comes to something that's really important to him he tends to keep quiet." Belle smiled at her daughter in law. "We didn't know you two were serious until he told us he was going to Paris and he didn't bother to say anything until the day before he left. We knew he liked you, but…" They laughed.

"My parents were pretty surprised, too. They didn't know until we got off the plane together in Florida."

"…You two might want to work on your communication skills."

Pam's smile faded. "What are we going to do to help Alec?"

"Bill and I will talk to Henry and you might want to be in on that as well. Then we keep a close eye on Alec. If it gets worse we'll call in Tom to take him in hand." Belle shook her head. "I know he loves what he does, the racing and all of it, but it's terrified me since the very beginning. Heavens, you ride, Pam—you know how often jockeys get hurt and when you add this sort of thing on top of it I sometimes wish he'd just gone into accounting like his father."

"He'd have hated it."

"I know that, but the worst thing that could have happened to him then would be a paper cut." She saw the frightened look on Pam's face. "Oh, don't get upset, sweetheart. You've helped him so much since you two got together; you've no idea. He's so much happier and relaxed since he met you—he's not as stressed as he used to be and seems to have things in a better perspective. He's calmer, less tense. You've done him a world of good. We just have to get him past this and he'll be just fine. You'll see."

"Does he know that you're aware that he does this sometimes?"

"What? Watch him when he stops eating? I think he pretends that we don't but, yes, I suppose he knows. It was one of the things I told him I didn't want him to ever get involved with when he first started racing and he promised me that he never would."

"But…"

"He was barely fifteen then and he weighed less than a hundred pounds. He probably never thought it would ever change. Alec has never been large. He was almost two months premature and for a while we thought that we were going to lose him before we could even get him home from the hospital but he's a fighter and he surprised the doctors. Alec's always been small, though—he takes after both his father and me. He has my height and Bill's build. I've teased him that he's lucky it wasn't the other way around." Belle was decidedly round, Alec's father tall and thin.

"What are you two talking about?" Alec's father walked into the kitchen with a dirty plate in his hand. He put it in the sink and went looking for something else to eat, rummaging through the cabinets for a cookie or two.

Belle smiled at him. "Girl talk."

Pam went back over to the apartment. The lights were almost all off, with one under counter light left on in the kitchen area for her so she could see. Alec had moved to the bed and was dead to the world. She looked at him lying there—he was clearly exhausted but beyond that he was gaunt. Even in the dim light she could see that his color was bad and his bones were more prominent than usual. He simply didn't look healthy and it frightened her.

She had to do something before this went too far. She glanced at the clock; it as still only ten. She took the cordless phone from the recharger and went down to the tack room so Alec couldn't hear her. Pushing the auto-dial, she heard the 'Hello' on the other end.

"Henry? Did I wake you?"

"No, I was just sitting here watching an old movie—everything all right up there?"

"Well, no not really. Did you ask Alec to ride a really light horse this week?"

There was a slight pause. "Is Alec having a problem with that?"

"He's stopped eating and I'm worried about him. I know this is between you two, but he's hurting himself to try to lose the weight."

"Has he complained?" Henry's voice had taken on that quiet quality it got when he was getting angry. Pam didn't care—Alec's health, _anyone's_ health was more important than a horse race.

"He's a professional and he knows his job is to ride the horses he's assigned. Now if that's too hard for him…"

She cut him off. "No. He hasn't complained, in fact he hasn't said a word about what he was doing but he practically passed out tonight from lack of food and he's making himself sick. He simply doesn't have the weight to lose and you know it, Henry. He's five foot seven inches tall and he weighs less than one hundred and five pounds at this point. It's dangerous for him."

"Now you listen to me, young lady. Alec knows his job and I think I know mine as well. He does what he has to so he can ride the top horses at the top tracks in the top races for top money—which we need to keep the farm going. I believe he's explained this to you, hasn't he?"

"Sure, I understand it, Henry. That doesn't mean that it isn't going to kill him if he keeps going the way he is."

"Now you're being melodramatic."

"Henry…!" She was like a mother bear protecting her cub—not that Alec was her cub but someone had to be looking out for him.

They both took a couple of breaths, backing off a little. "All right, Pam, I understand that you're worried about him. Tell me what he's doing to lose this weight. He's not eating enough? Is he throwing up?"

"…I don't think so."

"Good. Is he taking any pills? Amphetamines? Diuretics? Laxatives?"

"Not that I know of."

"That's good. Now is he overdoing with exercise?"

"I guess he just seems to be doing the regular amount he does everyday."

"Do his parents know about this? Sometimes they'll say something to him." It had happened before and Alec's father would sit him down and talk to him. Alec didn't listen, of course, but he'd go through the motions.

"I spoke with his mother tonight and she suspected that he was starving himself. I know she's worried about him but I don't think his father knows." Pam thought that if she and Alec ever had kids, she wouldn't want to have this kind of secret kept from her.

"If I know Belle; she'll sit Alec down and read him the riot act and then she'll sit _me_ down and do the same thing."

That was another thing. "Why didn't you just put some other rider up on this horse, Henry? Obviously you know what Alec goes through when you ask him to do something like this."

"Because when I do that Alec is furious with me. He takes it as an insult and a comment on his professionalism."

That was ridiculous. "Oh, please. He can't be enjoying this."

"Of course he isn't, but if he makes the weight, he'll be proud of himself. You see if I'm right."

"But Belle said that you agreed that you'd hire some other rider if Alec couldn't…"

"And as soon as Alec found out he went flew off the handle, complaining that it was his business and his mother had no right interfering—it was his choice and he was damned if he was going to be second guessed." There was another pause while Henry gathered himself. "All right, look—it's too late to stop him this time; the race is in two days. I'll take a good close look at him Thursday and if I don't think he's fit to ride, I'll replace him. And if it happens again, him starving himself—and it will—I'll get some other jock. Will that satisfy you?"

It was the best she could hope for and she knew it. "Yes, thank you. I'll see you at the track, Henry. I want to see him ride this race."

"I'm sure you do. Good night, Pam."

She cut the connection and made her way upstairs to find the apartment door open and Alec sitting up on the couch waiting for her. "You called Henry about me making weight?" He was as angry as she'd ever seen him—and Alec almost never got angry with her.

"You heard?" Clearly he had. "I didn't mean to interfere, Alec, but I'm worried about you."

"You don't involve yourself with my job and neither do my parents, Pam."

"But…"

"No. Race riding is what I do—and I've been doing it for a long time now. I've had some success with it, wouldn't you agree? I know what I'm doing."

"Alec, you haven't eaten a full meal in days."

"The race is the day after tomorrow. We'll go out for dinner afterwards and you can watch me eat, since you told Henry that you'll be at the race."

"I don't care about dinner. I care about you."

"I know you're worried, Pam." He was still furious, but he softened a bit. "I know that but I can't have you getting involved in my work—too much about the survival of the farm hinges on my doing my job as well as I can. You have to understand this."

"Your mother is worried about you."

"My mother has been worried about me since I was born. That's normal for her." He actually almost smiled, almost but not quite. "I know you don't like this, Pam, but I don't need another mother. Okay?" He lifted his hand to her; moving over to him she took it, leaned over and kissed him. "I need you to be my wife and to be on my side, okay?"

"I'm always on your side. You know I'm still going to worry about you but as long as you don't do something really stupid after this, I'll leave you alone about it." But she'd be watching and they both knew that.

"…Thanks, I guess."

"Tired?" She raised his hand and kissed his fingers.

"Exhausted. Bed?"

"Bed."

* * *

Alec drove down to Belmont the next evening after dinner—which he actually ate. He skipped the bread and dessert and had small portions, but he did eat more than he had been. Pam followed him down after lunch the next day. She knew he'd be busy getting ready for the race and she needed to work the two-year-olds anyway before driving down.

She showed her Horseman's pass at the gate, greeted a few of the track workers she'd come to know and waited half an hour before the horses for Alec's race came onto the track. She knew Alec had spent a few hours in the hot box in the Jockey room—he'd as much as told that he would be—and he looked pale during the post parade. He didn't seem to have any trouble with the horse or his balance or anything, but he wasn't the usual picture of health she was used to seeing.

"He got down to 101. I saw him weight out for the race a few minutes ago."

"101? Billy—he's five foot seven—he can't get that low." Horrified, she stared at Billy Watts, one of Alec's closest friends in racing. They'd been riding against one another for years now, hung out when they weren't working and were always there for one another. Alec had even given him a job up at the farm when he was recovering from that bad spill last year.

"Yeah, I know. But hey, he'll be okay. As soon as the race is over he'll drink a bunch of water or something and we're all going out to eat when he's done here. He'll be fine, Pam." He tried to look encouraging. The horses were approaching the gate, getting ready for the load in. This wasn't a big race; just the third race on a Thursday and no known horses were going. It was no big deal.

The horses were being loaded into the gate at the top of the first turn. The race was a short one for young horses, less than a mile and starting on the back. She could see Alec ready on the filly, waiting for the bell.

Billy was beside her, resting his forearms on the rail. "He loves racing, Pam. You know that. Don't lean on him about this, okay? He knows what he's doing and if you try to push him he'll push back. Even he says that he doesn't know how many more years he'll be racing riding; he wants to train and spend more time up at the farm, away from all the publicity and the circus. He'll quit when he's ready and then his weight won't make any difference. Just let him be for now or you'll push him away. I mean it—I know he loves you a lot but don't try to run his life for him." He gave her a smile. Trying to take the sting out of his words. "He _has_ a mother, y'know?"

Alec had said almost the same thing to her the other night.

The starting bells shrilled, the gate opened with a racket of shouting, hooves and the crowd around them, Pam's eyes fixed on her husband as the field moved down the backstretch in the short training sprint. He was in the middle of the pack, on the outside, moving easily and staying out of trouble. The horses started around the one turn they had to negotiate, the pair of bays who were leading falling back as Alec moved Black Miss past them and took the lead, her speed impressive for a filly in her first race. The race was a done deal when they hit the head of the stretch, Alec easily riding the filly a length ahead of the field and pulling away. They won handily, going away and she saw Alec stand in the stirrups as soon as they crossed the finish line, letting the horse slow then turning her around for her first trip to the winner's circle.

"Let's meet him over there." Pam nodded at Billy, the two of them heading over to see the usual picture being taken, the usual handshakes and the weight out.

Alec got the signal and dismounted, uncinched the saddle and walked over to the scale, stepping on. "Ramsay, number five, okay." He got the nod and handed his tack to his valet.

Pam saw him sway as he took the next step. "Billy…!"

He moved fast to Alec's side, an arm around his shoulders that looked like simple congratulations to the reporters and photographers but was intended to hold him up. "C'mon, drink this." He handed Alec a bottle of Gatorade he'd been working on himself and maneuvered his friend to the backside of the track and away from the press as quickly as possible. Pam walked on Alec's other side, her arm around his waist to keep him steady.

As soon as he was out of sight of the public he sank onto a bench, pale and sweating, his hands shaking.

"I said drink this." Billy removed Alec's helmet from his head and held the Gatorade up to his mouth, Alec took the bottle and sipped it slowly to keep it from coming back up again. "You look like shit, man. Did you eat anything today?"

"A couple of apples and some black coffee before the sweat box." He was fading again.

"Good going, idiot."

One of the on staff medics was there—this wasn't all that uncommon with the jockey's and they watched for this sort of thing. "You going to pass out, Alec? Yes? Okay, put your head down between your knees and breath. Nice and slow, just in and out." He sat back upright and the medic placed an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose. A couple of minutes of that and he was a bit better and sipping the Gatorade again. "Okay, Bill? Help him get changed and then make sure he has a decent meal and I'm talking protein, carbs, complex sugars and starch—everything—and then I want him to have a good night's sleep."

"No problem."

"Then make sure he gains at least five pounds. The medic turned to Pam. "And tell Henry to hire a half grown kid the next time he has a pony he wants to run at that weight, you hear me?"

Pam was rubbing Alec's back. "He's heard it before."

"Make him listen if you and your husband here want to join the stud program up at Hopeful Farm." Alec managed a dirty look at the medic at that comment. "Spare me, Alec. Go home, rest and look after your wife. I have enough work around here without you going anorexic on me."

"Thanks, George."

"Any time."

Billy was allowed into the jockey room to help Alec—a breech of the rules since he wasn't racing that day but the others let it go because it was Alec.

Pam was still sitting on the bench when George the medical tech sat next to her. "Hey, don't worry about him—really. Alec's got it together a lot more than most of those guys. Honest. He'll be fine, just keep an eye on him whenever he has a light horse to ride."

She managed a small smile. "Thanks."

"I mean it. He's smarter than just about any five people around here and he's in it for the long run, that means that he knows he has to look out for himself if he wants to keep it happening."

"Do you know him very well?"

"Me? Nah, I just see the jocks when they get hurt or something and Alec is pretty careful most of the time. I keep my ears open, though. He's got a good rep and he's always been pretty decent to me, I know that. Everyone respects him, knows he doesn't mess around, just does his job as well as he can and keeps his nose clean. No scandals, no BS, you know what I mean? He's too smart to really get sucked into stuff—no drugs, no illegal betting, no skirting by with the infractions or any of that. As far I know he doesn't even purge when he eats and that's practically a requirement for the jocks." He answered his cell phone, listened for a moment then, "Okay, on my way." He stood up. Don't worry about Alec, okay? He's one of the good ones—one of the _really_ good ones."

She kissed his cheek before he left. "Thank you, George."

Twenty minutes later Alec was showered, changed and he found Pam waiting for him, still sitting on the same bench. Billy hung back, talking to a couple of the other jocks, letting them talk out what had just happened.

"You're all right?" He did look better. He'd had a couple of candy bars inside and they gave him some quick energy.

"I'm fine."

"I've heard that before."

"Pam, c'mon, I'm okay. The race is over; let's get something to eat, okay?"

"Will you talk to Henry? I know it's your business, but…"

"I already did, just before the race. I told him that I can't ride under like 105 or 6 or so. If he schedules a race below that we'll hire someone else to ride it for us."

She looked at him. "Really?"

"Yes, really. 'You think I like this? C'mon." He put his arm around her waist, pulling her closer beside him. "I hate feeling like this; I'm used to being healthy, not almost passing out just because I stand up. I'll put the ten pounds back on and I'll be fine." He kissed her, garnering a whistle from a passerby and making them both laugh. "As soon as we eat we'll go back up to the farm; I don't have another race until the weekend. Sound good?"

She nodded.

And hoped he meant it.

5/29/07

15


End file.
